Attack of the Bayport Beast Read online

  Benny waved me away. “No, man. When you guys didn’t text back, I just came out here to do my own thing. It’s such a big park that I didn’t expect to run into you.”

  “And your thing is dressing up as the Bayport Beast?” I said.

  Benny shrugged. “Well . . . yeah.”

  “So you’ve been the Bayport Beast this entire time?” Frank questioned him.

  “Of course not,” Benny replied. “I only started doing it this year to drum up interest, you know?”

  “And drive up sales of your new beast merch,” Frank added.

  Our friend smiled sheepishly. “Well, it didn’t hurt.”

  “Benny.” I sighed. I was torn. Our friend had not only tricked us into believing he was the Bayport Beast; he had essentially betrayed the trust of a fellow beast hunter, namely me. But his costume was pretty cool, and I had to admit that I was impressed. “So what is that?” I asked him. “A gorilla costume?”

  Benny looked down at his arms. “Mostly. Then I added matching fur to a Cro-Magnon man mask.”

  He handed me the mask for a closer look. Benny had done a pretty good job adding extra hair and painting the skin.

  I pointed to Benny’s long legs. “What about your newfound height?”

  “These are drywall stilts.” Benny bent over and tugged at one of his furry legs. The bottom of the costume rose to reveal two metal poles where his ankles should have been. They disappeared into a fake Bigfoot foot. “People walk around on these when they install drywall on ceilings. My cousin works in construction, and he gave me his old pair.”

  “And the feet?” Frank asked.

  “Plywood and more fake fur,” Benny revealed proudly. “I cut them into the shapes of real feet so I could leave a big footprint.”

  Frank gestured to the creek bed behind him. “Yeah, I saw one of those. Got a ton of pictures of a genuine fake Bigfoot footprint.”

  “Pretty realistic, huh?” Benny asked.

  I shook my head. “Well, I guess that’s it. Mystery solved.” I tossed the mask back to Benny. “Let’s round up the cameras and take them back to Mr. Johansson.”

  “Mr. Johansson?” Benny asked.

  Frank and I explained how Johansson had asked us to place cameras around the trails.

  “Some of them probably caught footage of you in your Bigfoot suit,” I added. “We’re going to have to tell him about this.”

  Benny waved his furry hands. “Aw, you can’t do that. He was going to use me in the show.”

  “How can you be on the show as a Bayport Beast expert when you are the beast?” I asked.

  “But I’m not,” Benny pleaded. “I was just messing around.” He glanced from Frank to me. “There really is a Bayport Beast. I can prove it.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, right.” I nudged my brother’s arm. “Can you believe this guy?”

  Frank held up a hand. “Let’s hear him out.”

  “Wait, so you’re the believer now?” I asked my brother. “You’re the guy who thought this was all bogus to begin with.”

  “Yeah, but I’m also the guy who saw . . . whatever it is I saw,” Frank said. “And Benny was with you at the time, remember? He has an alibi.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Oh, man. You’re right.”

  Benny’s eyes went from Frank to me and then back to Frank. “What are you talking about?”

  Frank retold the story of his encounter with the Bayport Beast. It sounded just as creepy the second time around.

  “You saw the beast and didn’t tell me?” Benny asked.

  “Really?” I asked him. “You were the beast and didn’t tell us!”

  Benny ignored the accusation. “That just proves my point. There is something out here.”

  Frank thought for a moment. “Maybe we should spend the night and see what the cameras find after all.”

  “Can I stay with you guys? Please?” Benny pleaded.

  “Only if you promise to wash your face first,” I said. “You look like a raccoon.”

  We followed Benny back to his campsite, and he changed out of his beast costume. We helped him strike his tent and pack his gear. Soon Benny was back to his normal height and carrying the oversize backpack that held his beast costume along with his camping gear.

  We made it back to our campsite before dark. As we sat around the fire, Frank unfolded the map and showed Benny where we had placed the cameras.

  “Those are good spots,” said Benny.

  “Yeah, but how many of those more recent sightings on the main trails were you?” asked Frank.

  Benny winced. “All of them but yours.”

  “Benny!” Frank barked.

  Benny shrugged. “Sorry.”

  I pointed to the secluded trails. “Don’t forget the camera up here.” I shot Benny a look. “I guess that was you too.”

  Benny shook his head. “No way. I never made it all the way up to those trails.”

  Frank and I exchanged a look. I tapped the map again. “So none of the most recent sightings there were you?”

  “No.” He raised a hand, palm out. “I swear. According to my inside source, all of those happened last week. I was hoping to check them out soon, but . . .” He grinned sheepishly. “I was having too much fun playing the beast myself.”

  I stared at my brother. “You know, that camera is probably the only one without a photo of Benny the Beast on its memory card.”

  Frank nodded. “It’s a long hike.”

  “How fast can we round up the other cameras tomorrow?” I asked.

  Frank pursed his lips. “If we leave our gear here, split up, grab the cameras, and pick up our packs on the way out . . .”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Benny asked.

  “I hope your pack’s not too heavy.” I said as I clamped a hand on Benny’s shoulder. “Because if you’re sticking with us, you’re going to get plenty of exercise tomorrow.”

  We went to sleep early so we could rise at first light. The next morning, after a quick breakfast—rehydrated huevos rancheros—we struck camp, hid our backpacks, and jogged down to retrieve the cameras we had placed the day before.

  My brother and I had come to the same conclusion. If we were going to truly solve this mystery, the advanced trails were the place to be. There was something going on up there that didn’t involve our friend in a gorilla suit.

  After picking up all the cameras on the main trail, we met up back at the campsite in just over an hour. We pulled on our packs and began our long trek to the more secluded part of the trail system.

  It was going to take most of the day to get there before dark. This time Benny didn’t slow us down like we had originally feared. Maybe it was his heavy backpack or our quick pace or the fact that he had been busted as a phony Bigfoot. Whatever it was, he didn’t tell a single beast story along the way.

  Benny got a text about an hour after lunch. “There’s been another sighting,” he announced.

  We stopped and I dug the map out of Frank’s pack. “Where?”

  Benny pointed to a spot on the map just off one of the secluded trails. “Right here. I’ll add it to the small cluster of Xs.”

  I folded the map. “I wonder what your park ranger will think when she finds out you were behind of a lot of the sightings.”

  “Don’t forget about Mr. Johansson,” Frank added.

  “Ah, come on, guys,” Benny pleaded.

  For the rest of the hike, he begged us not to tell anyone about him wearing the Bigfoot suit.

  His tactic worked, though. By the end of the day, Frank and I were worn down.

  “Fine,” I said. “We won’t tell anyone about your forest costume party.”

  “If you promise not to do it again,” Frank added.

  Benny nodded frantically. “I promise! I promise!”

  The sun sank lower and lower in the sky as we made our way to the outer trails. Once we were there, we consulted the map to find our way to the crash site. Benny’s eyes widened when he saw t
he path of snapped trees and plowed earth leading back up to the highway. “Whoa, you weren’t kidding,” he said. “This accident must’ve been a doozy.”

  We hunted for the game camera, hoping it had picked up something from the night before.

  Frank pointed to a bare tree trunk. “I thought it was right here.”

  “You must have your trees mixed up, bro,” I said, glancing around.

  We split up and checked the nearby trees. Even though the camera was camouflaged, Frank and I knew what it looked like. It shouldn’t have been that hard to spot.

  “Uh, guys?” asked Benny. He held up a mangled plastic box. “Is this it?”

  “Oh, man,” I muttered as Frank and I jogged over to Benny.

  The plastic casing had been pried open, and circuit boards dangled from frayed wires.

  “Did a bear get it?” asked Benny.

  “Maybe vandals,” I suggested, turning the mangled plastic in my hands. “I don’t see any teeth marks.”

  Frank dug around in the camera’s disemboweled circuitry. “We’ll find out soon enough.” He pulled out a small square. “That is, if the memory card is still readable.”

  Frank replaced his camera’s memory card with the one from the game camera. We gathered around the small screen as my brother scanned through the images. As we suspected, there were shots of different hikers frozen mid-stride. When he came to the night-vision photos, all of the images had a green tint to them. There were shots of a raccoon and a coyote, and two separate photos of deer. Each of the animals had glowing eyes from the infrared light on the camera. Frank stopped on the last frame.

  “Oh, man,” Benny said.

  “Is that . . . ,” I began.

  “Exactly what I saw the other day,” Frank finished.

  A huge, hairy hand covered most of the frame, as if its owner had been reaching for the lens. The background showed part of the creature’s face: an angry low brow atop two glowing eyes.

  11

  THE BEAST LIVES

  FRANK

  WHEN I WAS SURE THE last camera was secure, I switched it on and made my way back to the trail. I banged my shin on a log and chided myself for not turning on my flashlight. It wasn’t dark yet, but the sun had already dipped below the tree line. Whenever I’m camping, I try to use a flashlight as little as possible. It’s better to let my eyes adjust to the ambient light (especially moonlight) and not blind myself or my friends with a flashlight’s harsh beam. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any moonlight yet, and the way back to the trail was thick with obstacles.

  I stepped onto the clear trail and gazed back at the game camera. My eyes had adjusted just enough to glimpse a small reflection off the camera’s lens. It had a clear view of the trail.

  The three of us had decided to split up and place the rest of the cameras before dark. Even though we were all a little spooked from the photo, we figured splitting up would be the quickest way to get the job done.

  As I rounded a bend toward our new campsite, I spotted two flashlight beams bobbing along the trail ahead. For a moment, I thought Joe and Benny had come looking for me. Then I spotted two more sweeping beams behind them.

  The beams drew nearer, and I squinted as one shone right in my face.

  “Whoops, sorry!” said a woman’s voice. She lowered the flashlight.

  Two couples who looked like they were in their twenties stood on the trail before me.

  “That’s all right,” I said. “I didn’t think anyone else was camping up here.”

  “I think we’re it,” said the other woman. “You’re the only other person we’ve seen in two days.”

  “You camped here last night?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” said the first woman. She pointed to the trail behind me. “We’re just over that hill.”

  “Did you see anything . . . weird last night?” I asked.

  The group exchanged glances. “No. Why?”

  “Just curious,” I said (which was the truth, really). “It’s my first night this deep in the trails.”

  “You’ll love it,” said the first woman. “Very quiet.”

  “Except for last night,” one of the men corrected. “I think someone was hunting way out there in the woods. I thought I heard a gunshot.”

  “You all alone out here?” asked the other man.

  I shook my head and pointed past them. “I’m camping with some friends over there.”

  “Well, have fun,” said the first man as they made their way past me.

  I watched them go, their flashlights scanning the trail before them. Good thing I had placed the camera before they arrived. I don’t know how I would have explained that one.

  When I returned to the campsite, Joe and Benny were already sitting in front of a roaring campfire. There was a pot of water over the flames.

  “There he is,” said Joe. “I thought the beast had you!” He was joking, of course, but I spotted a glimmer of relief on his face.

  I told them about the other campers on the hill and their report about the gunshot from the night before.

  “You’re not supposed to hunt in this forest,” Benny remarked.

  “People aren’t supposed to run around impersonating Bigfoot, either,” said Joe.

  I plopped down in front of the fire. “Are all the cameras in place?”

  Joe held up a thumb. “Good to go.”

  Benny’s eyes lit up. “We’re bound to get some awesome shots off one of them.”

  “Unless the beast decides to trash them, too,” muttered Joe. “I don’t think Mr. Johansson’s going to like that.”

  “Are you kidding?” I asked. “He’ll probably get more cool shots like the other one.”

  “Let’s see it again!” Benny demanded.

  I dug out my camera while Joe dug out our dinner. Benny peered over my shoulder as I pulled up the image.

  “You think it’s a guy in a suit, like me?” asked Benny.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “Not much of its face is showing.”

  “A bear?” Joe asked.

  “I can’t say for sure on that, either,” I admitted. “The game camera wasn’t clawed or chewed.” I zoomed in on the image. “And since whatever it was is so close to the lens, I can’t be sure if that’s a hand or a paw.”

  I put the camera away and we ate dinner silently and quickly. I don’t know if we were that hungry or if we only wanted to get to sleep. Maybe both. It had been a long day of constant hiking up and down rugged terrain. If the others felt anything like me, they’d be asleep before the tent was zipped shut.

  We said our good nights and climbed into our tents. Even though I was excited by what the game cameras would reveal, sleep came easily. My body was exhausted. I quickly drifted off to the relaxing sound of crickets chirping and the wind rustling through the trees.

  A loud growl ripped me from my sleep. I sprang up, my hand on my flashlight, eyes darting around the tent. But it was only my brother’s snoring.

  I yawned as I pulled on my boots and climbed out of the tent. The full moon bathed the forest floor in silver light. I didn’t even need my flashlight as I shuffled deeper into the trees to answer my own call of nature.

  I returned to the tent, enjoying the feeling of cool air on my skin. I glanced at Benny’s tent and noticed that his big backpack was lying on the ground in front of it. But something looked strange. When I took a closer look at the backpack, I realized it was flatter than it should have been, especially with the Bigfoot costume inside. I poked the fabric, which deflated under my touch. It was empty.

  My lips tightened in anger. Benny better not have put on the costume. I couldn’t believe he’d have the nerve to pull this prank again. I switched on my flashlight and shined it through the netting in the front of Benny’s tent. Benny was gone. Joe and I should have confiscated his Bigfoot suit!

  The other campers had said they were over the nearest hill, so I tried to walk in that direction, figuring that Benny had intended to scare them. The undergro
wth was thin around our campsite, so I decided to forgo the trail and cut through the woods.

  After traveling for about five minutes, I spotted Benny in full costume, squatting on the forest floor. His back was to me, so he didn’t see me approach. As I moved closer, I noticed he was crouching over something or someone on the ground. I couldn’t make out what it was, so I readied my flashlight as I moved forward.

  “Benny,” I whispered. “What are you doing?”

  When he heard my voice, Benny’s shoulders stiffened and he growled.

  “Cut the nonsense,” I said. “You’re so busted!”

  Then I caught a glimpse of what Benny was huddled over. At first I didn’t believe it. Then I switched on my flashlight and saw it clearly: a small, hairless . . . Bigfoot?

  The crouching figure that I thought was Benny spun so fast that I stumbled back and dropped my flashlight. It took a giant step toward me.

  ROOOOOAR!

  Rows of sharp teeth gleamed in the moonlight. This definitely wasn’t Benny. It was a Bigfoot.

  The Bayport Beast was real?!

  I tried to turn around, but I stumbled again and thudded into something behind me. Another, shorter Bigfoot glared up at me. It grabbed my arm with long, bony fingers. I was surrounded.

  Terror took over. I broke free from the creature’s grasp and dashed out from between the two beasts. Unfortunately, terror isn’t a good navigator. In my haste, I slammed into a tree trunk.

  You know how cartoon characters always see stars when they get hit in the head? That really happens—sort of. When my head hit the hard bark, a million pinpricks of light filled my vision. Before I knew it, my back hit the ground. As I stared up at the treetops, two looming figures filled my vision. The moonlight silhouetted their hairy forms and glinted off their piercing eyes. The last thing I saw was a massive pair of hands grabbing me. Then everything turned black.

  12

  TRAPPED

  JOE

  A DISTANT ROAR WOKE ME from a deep sleep. I rolled over and noticed that Frank’s sleeping bag was empty.

  I climbed out of the tent and scanned the area but didn’t see my brother. “Frank?” I whispered. “Frank!” There was no answer.